Lucas finally looked up from the book, realizing how much time had passed. The day had crept by unnoticed, the sunlight now filtering weakly through the curtains of his room. He closed the medical text with a soft thud, running a hand through his dark hair. The quiet of the house felt different now, more intense, almost suffocating in its stillness.
He placed the book back on the shelf and stretched, feeling the slight stiffness in his muscles from sitting in one position for too long. A faint grumble in his stomach reminded him that it had been hours since he last ate. The thought of food brought a strange comfort, something normal .
For the first time since his return, Lucas felt a sense of freedom. Alone in the house, he could do as he pleased, without the constraints of others' expectations or the need to maintain any facade. He could finally cook, something he hadn't done since his time with his biological family. The memories of those days were distant, blurred at the edges, but the act of cooking had always brought him a strange sense of peace, a connection to a simpler time.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Lucas made his way to the kitchen. The silence of the house followed him, the echo of his footsteps the only sound as he moved through the empty rooms. The kitchen, with its familiar layout and well-stocked pantry, greeted him like an old friend. He felt a small flicker of something almost nostalgic as he opened the fridge and began pulling out ingredients.
He decided on something simple—a dish he had made countless times before when he was left alone in the small house ,to care for Annabeth. The memory of her small voice asking for more filled his mind briefly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he chopped vegetables with practiced ease. The rhythmic motion of the knife, the sizzle of ingredients hitting the pan—it all felt so familiar, almost comforting.
The smells that filled the kitchen were warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical thoughts that had consumed him earlier. For a moment, as he stirred the pot and tasted the sauce, he was just Lucas again—just a normal boy in a kitchen, cooking a meal.
As he moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and setting pots on the stove, Lucas felt a strange sense of contentment. He was alone in the house, free to indulge in the routine he had long been denied. The scent of sautéing onions filled the air, blending with the aroma of freshly cut herbs.
As he reached for another knife, intent on dicing a few more ingredients, he suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind, pulling him close. His body reacted before his mind had fully processed what was happening. Without a second thought, Lucas twisted around, his hand already gripping the knife he had been using. In a flash, he brought the blade down ruthlessly, aiming to strike at the intruder.
But his attack was halted mid-air. The blade was caught in a strong, unyielding grip.
Lucas looked up, his eyes narrowing as he met the gaze of the person who had dared to touch him. Kane stood before him, his expression unreadable, his hand wrapped around the knife's blade. Blood trickled down from where the sharp edge had cut into his palm, but he didn't flinch or pull back. Instead, Kane's grip only tightened, the muscles in his arm flexing as he held the knife firmly in place.
For a brief moment, the two stood locked in a silent standoff, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Then, in a swift, almost effortless motion, Kane spun Lucas around, pulling him close. Before Lucas could react, Kane's lips crashed against his, a kiss that was as forceful and intense as it was unexpected.
The knife slipped from Lucas's hand, clattering to the floor as Kane's free arm wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly. The kiss was aggressive, filled with a raw hunger that took Lucas by surprise. He felt the warmth of Kane's blood on his hands, the coppery scent mingling with the lingering aromas of the kitchen.
For a moment, Lucas froze, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. But then, as the initial shock wore off. Kane's boldness, his strength—it awakened a familiar thrill, a desire that had been lying dormant beneath the surface.
Lucas's hands moved instinctively, pushing against Kane's chest, but it was a half-hearted effort, more for show than anything else. There was a fire in the way Kane held him, in the way he kissed him, and it ignited something deep inside Lucas.
When Kane finally pulled back, his breathing heavy, Lucas's eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something he wasn't ready to fully acknowledge. The knife lay forgotten on the floor between them, a silent reminder of how close things had come to taking a darker turn.
Kane didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Lucas, his hand still bleeding but steady. Lucas, on the other hand, could only manage a breathless, "What the hell was that for?"
Kane's response was simple, a low growl that sent a shiver down Lucas's spine. "Because I wanted to."
Lucas pulled back from the kiss, his breath slightly uneven as he glared at Kane. His eyes flicked down to the wound on Kane's hand, the blood slowly seeping from the cut where the knife had pierced his skin."Clean that up yourself," Lucas snapped, irritation lacing his voice. But beneath the anger, something unsettled churned within him at the thought of the blood dripping on the floor, though he refused to show it.
Kane, however, only smiled, a casual, almost amused expression on his face as if Lucas's reaction was exactly what he expected. He glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers slightly to assess the damage, before meeting Lucas's gaze again.
"Sure thing," Kane said, his tone light, as though the injury was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He didn't move right away, though, just stood there watching Lucas with that same infuriating smile.
Lucas's eyes narrowed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "How did you even get in here?" he demanded, more to regain control of the situation than out of genuine curiosity.
Kane chuckled softly, taking his time before responding. "They really need to up their security around here," he said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "It was almost too easy to pick the lock."
Lucas's anger flared at the casualness of Kane's reply, his grip tightening on the handle of the knife. But he forced himself to remain calm, his eyes sharp as he met Kane's gaze. "You think this is a joke?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous.
Kane just shrugged, still smiling. "Maybe," he replied, unbothered by Lucas's anger. He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping as he added, "But it got me inside, didn't it?"
Lucas felt his jaw clench, the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Kane's nonchalance was infuriating, yet there was something almost magnetic about it—a confidence that challenged Lucas in a way few others could.
Kane's smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched Lucas. "I heard about Violet," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. There was something almost playful in his tone, a dark edge just beneath the surface. "Did you kill her?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned back to the stove, the wooden spoon stirring through the pot with calm precision. The silence between them thickened, but Kane just laughed, the sound low and rich. "You did, didn't you?"
A smile tugged at Lucas's lips, and they shared a brief moment of understanding. Kane wrapped his arms around Lucas again, pulling him close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Oh, baby, I knew we were meant to be."
Lucas narrowed his eyes slightly, curious. "How did you even hear about that so quickly?"
Kane just shrugged, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Small town," he replied, his tone nonchalant as if that explained everything.
Lucas, despite his earlier command for Kane to clean up his own wound, found himself grabbing a cloth and pressing it gently against Kane's bleeding hand. He didn't say a word, but his actions spoke volumes. The knife wound wasn't deep, but it still bled, and Lucas dabbed at it carefully, his touch unexpectedly tender.
Kane watched him with that same amused smile, not saying anything either. He seemed to understand this silent exchange, enjoying the unexpected attention. Once the bleeding slowed, Lucas wrapped Kane's hand with a clean towel, securing it tightly before stepping back.
Without acknowledging what he'd just done, Lucas turned back to the stove, now plating the food for the two of them. He moved with a precise calmness, arranging the meal with a care that contrasted sharply with the violence from moments before.
Kane's eyes followed him the entire time, a curious mix of admiration and amusement in his gaze.
"Sit," Lucas finally said, his voice calm, almost commanding. He gestured to the table, where he had already set two plates. Kane obeyed without question, a grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Lucas joined him at the table, setting down the food with the same care he had used in the preparation. The meal was simple but well-prepared. Kane picked up his fork, taking a bite, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"This is good," Kane said, his voice genuine for the first time since he had entered the kitchen. He took another bite, savoring the flavor. "Really good. You've got some serious skills."
Lucas didn't respond, his expression neutral as he began to eat his own meal. But there was a faint hint of satisfaction in his eyes, barely noticeable.
As Lucas watched Kane savor the meal, a fleeting memory washed over him, sharp and vivid. It was a memory of a simpler time, back when he was younger and life was less complicated.
In his mind, he saw a small kitchen bathed in the warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun. The kitchen was modest, but it had an inviting charm. Lucas, younger and with a look of focused determination, stood on a large stool at the stove, stirring a pot of stew. His little sister, Annabeth, sat at the table, her small feet dangling above the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Is it ready yet?" Annabeth's voice was filled with excitement, her hands resting on the edge of the table as she leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what Lucas was cooking. She was always so impatient, so eager for whatever Lucas prepared.
"Almost," Lucas replied, his voice calm, patient. He carefully lifted a spoonful of the stew to his lips, blowing on it gently before tasting it. His expression brightened as the flavors melded perfectly on his tongue. "Just a little more time, and it'll be perfect."
Annabeth pouted playfully. "But I'm starving!"
Lucas laughed, his heart swelling with affection. "I know, I know. But good things take time." He stirred the pot again, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. He glanced at Annabeth, who was now fidgeting with her utensils, her face lighting up whenever Lucas looked her way.
Eventually, Lucas ladled the stew into bowls and set them on the table. He watched as Annabeth's eyes widened with delight when she saw the steaming meal. She eagerly dug in, her face a picture of pure satisfaction.
"This is the best stew ever, Lucas!" she declared between bites, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
Lucas's heart swelled with pride as he took his seat. "I'm glad you think so, Annabeth. I made it just for you."
She giggled a few moments later, swinging her legs back and forth as she watched him, her little cheeks filled with food. "You're the best cook, Lucas! Better than Mom!"
Lucas's heart warmed at her words, a rare smile spreading across his face. "Don't let Mom hear you say that," he teased, though a part of him relished the compliment. Cooking for Annabeth had always been his favorite thing to do—something that made him feel connected, responsible, and, in a way, loved.
The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Lucas with a momentary pang of nostalgia. He blinked, refocusing on the present. Kane was still enjoying the meal, his praises for the food unceasing.
Lucas's expression softened slightly, his thoughts drifting back to the simple joy